


cyclone

by thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, snowball - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2019-01-18 16:50:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12392148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: There’s only one way to determine who has the bigger junk.





	cyclone

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for cotton candy bingo (compliments).

“Wow, they’re not trying for subtle at all, are they?” Nikaido says, snickering as he flips through the Beginners! shoot of Only Star.

“Why are you even reading that shit,” Fujigaya mutters from the couch, hat over his face.

“I think it’s funny,” Kitayama comments from next to him.

Fujigaya snorts unattractively. “You would.”

“I don’t know what you’re bitching about, Taipi,” Nikaido says as he turns the magazine around to show them. “From the looks of things, you’re getting the long end of the stick here.”

“Please rephrase that,” Yokoo calls over.

“Nah,” Fujigaya says, grinning as he stretches smugly. “Keep it as it is.”

“ _Please_ ,” Kitayama scoffs. “It’s not that damn big.”

The hat falls off the back of the couch as Fujigaya leans up to fix Kitayama with a challenging look. “And how the fuck would you know?”

“I’ve showered with you, idiot,” Kitayama replies casually.

“It gets bigger, _idiot_ ,” Fujigaya shoots back. “Or do you not know how your own anatomy works?”

“Whatever.” Kitayama rolls his eyes. “I thought we determined a long time ago that I’m bigger than you.”

“What, when I was _seventeen_?” Fujigaya exclaims. “That hardly counts.”

“Wait, wait,” Senga breaks in, fist to his mouth like he’s trying not to laugh. “You two actually compared?”

“Yes,” Fujigaya and Kitayama answered in unison, redirecting their attention towards their youngest member with identical looks that silently add _and what_?

“With a measuring tape and everything?” Miyata chimes in, while Tamamori tries very unsuccessfully to hide his laughter in Miyata’s shoulder.

“Obviously,” Kitayama answers. “How else would you do it?”

“That’s not even fair, really,” Nikaido mentions. “You’re two years apart.”

“Right?” Fujigaya says, looking pleased that someone is on his side.

“Well, naturally this demands a rematch,” Miyata declares, everything about his expression pure devious. “Whip it out, boys.”

“I have measuring tape on my keychain,” Senga offers, diving for his bag.

Fujigaya jumps up and starts unfastening his belt, but Kitayama shoves him back down. “We are not doing this at _work_ ,” he hisses.

“It will take three fucking seconds,” Fujigaya tells him exasperatedly. “You just don’t want to be shown up in front of everyone.”

Kitayama sighs. “Taisuke, that is the _last_ thing we need to be caught doing by anyone who schedules our photoshoots.”

“Think about Duet,” Yokoo adds, and Kitayama nods.

“Think about _An-An_ ,” Miyata throws in, and both Fujigaya and Kitayama stare at him with big eyes.

“Hey,” Tamamori says suddenly. “Isn’t this argument kind of pointless?”

“Of course it is,” Kitayama replies. “Everything Taisuke argues is pointless.”

Fujigaya hrmphs.

“No, I mean…” Tamamori inhales sharply, like he needs more air to speak his thoughts. “Gaya said it doesn’t matter when it’s soft, so that means you have to compare when it’s hard.”

Six people stare at him, for so long that he starts to shrink away and hide behind Miyata again.

“Well, _that’s_ not happening,” Kitayama decides out loud.

“Then you have to admit that I _could_ be bigger than you now,” Fujigaya says, his grin returning.

Kitayama makes a face at him. “That’s not happening either.”

“You could both do the same girl?” Nikaido suggest, then clears his throat when Fujigaya and Kitayama look at him like he’d just suggested they off their mothers. “Not at the same time!”

“Nika might be onto something,” Yokoo says, looking just as shady as Miyata as he leans over the back of the couch between the two frontmen. “Just have an impartial third party measure you both. You know, if you really want to know.”

“It’d have to be someone really hot,” Kitayama tells him. “I can’t do that for just anyone.”

“I don’t have any problems in that department,” Fujigaya says with a smirk. “I could do it right now.”

“An-An,” Yokoo reminds him, and Fujigaya sits up straight and presses his legs together.

“ _Or_ ,” Miyata draws out, “you could watch porn together.”

Kitayama shakes his head. “If he’s anywhere near me, I won’t be able to do it.”

“Please, I’m the hottest person you know,” Fujigaya tells him. “Stop acting like you’re as straight as an arrow, because everyone in this room and most of the agency knows that you’re not.”

“That has nothing to do with anything,” Kitayama shoots back, not even fazed at the outing. “This has to do with you and me and how there’s no way in hell I’m getting _anything_ up with you in the same room.”

“I call bullshit,” Fujigaya drawls, reaching up to play with his hair. “I bet I could get you to do it in one minute. Maybe thirty seconds.”

“Not even if I was _blindfolded_ ,” Kitayama says. “ _And_ drunk.”

“Oh, no, none of that.” Fujigaya flashes a cocky grin. “I want to see the scandalized look on your face when it happens.”

“Wait,” Tamamori speaks up, looking confused. “That’s not even what this is—”

“Shh,” hiss both Miyata and Nikaido.

“Tonight,” Kitayama declares, staring Fujigaya down as he speaks. “After filming. Watta’s place. Neutral ground and all.”

“Hey, wait a second—” Yokoo starts.

“Fine,” Fujigaya accepts, and they shake on it.

The three frontmen are called for their shoot then, leaving Yokoo with his face in his hands while Miyata and Nikaido smirk evilly and Senga just looks lost.

“What just happened?” Senga asks.

Nikaido pats his shoulder. “Something that should have happened a long time ago.”

*

Fujigaya shows up first, because he practically already lives there, which means he’s poised and ready to attack Kitayama the second he walks in the door.

“Excuse me for intru—” is all Kitayama gets out before he’s approached from behind, instantly slumping in Fujigaya’s arms, and the rest of his greeting is mangled into a shocked moan as lips attach to the back of his neck.

Yokoo walks around the corner, sees them, and rolls his eyes. “If you two just wanted to hook up, Mitsu has his own apartment, you know.”

“We are— _fuck_ —not hooking up,” Kitayama gasps, arching a little as Fujigaya mouths the skin right under his hairline. Hands grab him by the hips and pull back, his fingers dipping under Kitayama’s shirt to trail along his waist. “Taisuke is cheating.”

“I am not,” Fujigaya says, leaning up to hiss right in Kitayama’s ear, making him visibly shudder. “It’s only been fifteen seconds and you’re already losing.”

“You’re going to have to do better than that,” Kitayama says, his voice a little shaky. “The wind is more arousing than you.”

Fujigaya laughs at that, bringing his fingers together at Kitayama’s waist to unfasten his pants. “Is that so?”

“It is,” Kitayama replies, holding his straight face until one of Fujigaya’s hands disappears into his boxers. Then his eyes roll back into his head, his stomach concaving as he balls both hands into fists on either side of him. He’s clenching his teeth, clearly trying to fight his body’s natural reaction to being touched, though the cock Fujigaya pulls out is starting to twitch.

“You’re pretty good at self-control, I have to give you that.” Fujigaya scrapes his teeth along Kitayama’s neck, smiling when Kitayama starts to swell in his hand. “Too bad I’m impatient.”

With that, he drops to his knees and pulls Kitayama toward his face, sucking the tip right past his lips. Kitayama almost loses his balance, finding purchase in the form of Fujigaya’s hair and inadvertently urging him to take more. “Oh, fuck you.”

Fujigaya chuckles around Kitayama’s length, which has Kitayama moaning again, and he makes it five more seconds before giving up and tossing his head back, rocking his hips forward into Fujigaya’s mouth.

Across the room, Yokoo looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than in his own entryway, holding a retractable tape measure and reevaluating his life choices. He starts to move when Fujigaya pulls back, but Kitayama doesn’t let him go very far.

“Don’t you _dare_ stop,” Kitayama growls at him, and Fujigaya’s eyes widen a little at the ferocity. “You started this, now finish it.”

“O _ho_ ,” Fujigaya says haughtily, standing up despite Kitayama’s efforts to keep him down. “And what do I get?”

“You’re such a bastard,” Kitayama spits, completely red-faced and trembling.

“Will you do it to me?” Fujigaya asks, pressing the words into Kitayama’s throat, and Kitayama moans outright when Fujigaya gives him a firm stroke. “It may be too much for you to take, but I’ll go easy on you.”

“I can take whatever you’ve got,” Kitayama says, shooting what appears to be a glare from under his heavily-hooded eyelids. “Now shut the fuck up and suck my dick.”

Fujigaya laughs, licking his lips very obscenely before speaking again. “That’s cute, you think you’re in charge here. Tell me how much you want it and I’ll do it.”

“Taisuke,” Kitayama starts, but all attempts at being stern are thwarted when Fujigaya flicks his wrist. “Fine, fuck, I want it, okay. Really bad. Do you want me to beg?”

“That would be nice,” Fujigaya answers, “but not necessary. You’ll already be on your knees for me soon enough.”

“ _Taisuke_ ,” Kitayama whines, his hips snapping as Fujigaya thumbs the head of his cock.

“Um, you guys?” Yokoo tries, holding up the tape measure pointedly.

They ignore him as Taisuke drops back to the floor and grabs Kitayama by the ass, holding him steady as he swallows all of his length. Kitayama’s eyes bulge comically before they close, his head leaning back as he sinks both hands into Fujigaya’s hair.

“God, yes, just like that,” he pants, biting his lip when Fujigaya pulls back enough to suck on the head. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Fujigaya jumps up to his feet, flashing a grin at Kitayama’s incredulous expression as he grabs Kitayama’s hand and places it on himself. “Finish yourself off. I’ll talk you through it.”

“I can’t fucking believe you—”

“Didn’t you like my mouth, Mitsu?” Fujigaya whispers in his ear, slipping behind Kitayama and pulling him back against him. “My throat swallowing around you? Maybe you want to put it somewhere else.”

Kitayama just moans, his head falling back onto Fujigaya’s shoulder as his hand starts to move up and down his cock. “Fuck yeah I do.”

“It’s been awhile,” Fujigaya goes on. “I’d be so tight. You’d have to thrust hard just to get it in.”

“Taisuke,” Kitayama gasps, a warning tone to his voice, and Fujigaya lifts up Kitayama’s shirt just in time for him to spill over his fingers with a sharp cry. “I hate you so much,” he adds breathlessly as he reaches for the tissues Yokoo keeps stashed everywhere.

“No you don’t,” Fujigaya says, pressing a kiss to Kitayama’s ear that makes him shiver before gently guiding him down to his knees. Kitayama’s too dazed to fight him, and by the time he realizes where he is, Fujigaya’s dropping trou right in front of his face.

“You’re hard already,” Kitayama notes.

“You’re hot when you’re helpless,” Fujigaya tells him, and Kitayama hides a smile.

Yokoo doesn’t even bother to point out that this would be the opportune time to measure, just retreats to the living room to finish watching the news. Neither Fujigaya nor Kitayama appear to notice the sudden background noise, the former staring down at the latter who’s eyeing Fujigaya’s erection like he’s mentally plotting a strategy of attack.

“Come on,” Fujigaya says, but it’s soft and encouraging. “Mitsu.”

Kitayama licks his lips determinedly as he leans in, giving Fujigaya a tentative lick to the head. The small gesture has Fujigaya arching where he stands, his back against the wall as he twists Kitayama’s hair around his fingers and gently guides him closer.

“Oh, that’s good,” he breathes, leaning his head back to expose his throat as Kitayama gradually sucks him in inch by inch. “Fuck, your _mouth_.”

Now Kitayama looks smug, or at least as smug as anyone can look with a cock in his mouth, but he still moves excruciatingly slowly as he takes Fujigaya all the way in and back out again. Fujigaya groans at the pressure, his noises much quieter and deeper than Kitayama’s had been, and soon he’s rocking back and forth to meet Kitayama’s efforts and thrust further down his throat as they both move faster.

“Mitsu,” he gasps, his fingers now brushing Kitayama’s hair out of his face, rolling his head up enough to stare down at Kitayama in disbelief. “You’re really fucking good at this.”

Kitayama responds by pulling back enough to tongue the head, licking the slit, and Fujigaya’s shrill cry pierces the air as he pushes Kitayama back down enough to come in his mouth.

“The _fuck_ ,” Kitayama mumbles through his mouthful, which is starting to seep out from between his lips, and Fujigaya chuckles as he slumps right to the floor with a lazy, sated smile.

“It’s not that bad,” he says, then uses the hand still in Kitayama’s hair to press their mouths together. He laps up most of his release before kissing the other man for real, tilting his head for a deeper angle.

“You forgot something,” Yokoo says pointedly, beaming Fujigaya in the shoulder with the tape measure as he walks by. “I’m going to bed. Don’t fuck on my couch.”

Fujigaya winces as he grabs for his shoulder, barely breaking their kiss. “ _Ow_.”

“Oh,” Kitayama says suddenly, finally noticing the tape measure. “Well, shit.”

“What, can’t you go again?” Fujigaya asks, giving him a condescending look. “You’re not _that_ old, Mitsu.”

“Of course I can go again,” Kitayama snaps back. “Just give me a few more minutes.”

“Yeah, me too,” Fujigaya agrees, his chest still heaving for air as he leans forward to rest his forehead on Kitayama’s shoulder. He jumps when Kitayama takes advantage of this position to lick his ear, which has an instant effect of Fujigaya pulling him back into his mouth.

Kitayama kicks the tape measure as they topple to the floor, sending it into one of Yokoo’s shoes to be forgotten again.

*

“So?” Miyata greets them the next morning, grinning at the realization that they arrived together. “Who won?”

“Huh?” Fujigaya and Kitayama chorus, both yawning and looking worse for wear.

“The measuring contest,” Miyata explains.

“Oh,” Fujigaya says airily. “Nobody. We didn’t do it.”

“What?!” three voices ask; Tamamori’s still mostly asleep.

Kitayama shrugs. “It’s not that important.”

The younger four watch them walk away, then Nikaido gathers Senga and Miyata (and Tamamori by proxy) into a huddle. “What do we do now? We have bets riding on this.”

“I don’t know,” Senga says with a pout. “I didn’t think they wouldn’t do it.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t make any sense,” Miyata inputs. “They’re so competitive.”

“Hold on,” Tamamori mumbles, opening his eyes enough to watch the pair in question as they don’t appear to be bothered by each other’s presence at all. Then Kitayama reaches up to rub his jaw, wincing while Fujigaya just pats him on the shoulder, and Tamamori snaps his fingers. “Gaya won.”

“What? How do you know that?” Nikaido demands, while Miyata just gapes at Tamamori.

“I know blowjob lockjaw when I see it,” Tamamori says simply, then stretches his arms over his head. “Pay up, losers!”


End file.
